


Feel Like Yours

by unkindravens



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: F/F, Feelings, Light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkindravens/pseuds/unkindravens
Summary: As her dom, Twyla has taken over day-to-day decisions for Stevie while she figures it all out. Until Twyla tells her she can't anymore.
Relationships: Stevie Budd/Twyla Sands
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Feel Like Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [She's God and I Found Her](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547293), but it's fine if you haven't read it. You just need to know that Twyla and Stevie have had a D/s relationship for a while.
> 
> Takes place early season six.
> 
> Idea came from [Hit the Back](https://open.spotify.com/track/3SP8bUtudlP0xkBdrzqxuE?si=1OzQJ_jsTSG5MGmOhpqe_g) by King Princess because of course it did.
> 
> Dedicated to bottoms everywhere.

_And ain't I the best you had  
_ _Tell me I need respect  
_ _'Cause you know that I'm around  
_ _I'm your pet  
_-King Princess

Stevie was getting her shit together. Trying to get her shit together. She’d been sitting and thinking about her shit so much since _Cabaret_ wrapped, and she didn’t have any room left in her brain.

So she turned herself over to Twyla. She double-checked her phone before walking into the cafe.

Twyla: Black jeans you only wear when you’re going out  
Twyla: Purple flannel, that black crop top you hate, blue converse  
Twyla: Red bra and panty set  
Twyla: Cafe. Sit on the last stool at the counter

She’d followed Twyla’s instructions. The cafe was in the middle of the breakfast rush and she took her place at the end of the counter. Twyla was gliding among the full booths and tables, smiling and laughing, ignoring Stevie.

After half an hour, most patrons were gone and Twyla walked toward Stevie.

“Stand up,” she said.

Stevie did Twyla eyed her.

“Unbutton the flannel. You know better.”

She did know better. She unbuttoned her shirt, showing a glimpse of stomach.

“You get one waffle, no syrup, coffee, strawberries, and a banana. You will eat it all.”

Stevie nodded. Her day-to-day has been much easier since Twyla too over. After she told Mr. Rose she needed time to explore, she had been at a loss for what to do. What did she even want?

After breakfast, she spent the day behind the counter, sitting on the floor. When the cafe was slow, Twyla stood in front of her and slipped off her shoes. Stevie massaged her feet.

At lunch Twyla escorted Stevie back to her seat. She gave Stevie a gigantic salad, no dressing, toast, and water. She silently cleaned her plate and was rewarded with a warm chocolate chip cookie. Then it was back to the floor where Twyla handed her a bin of napkins and silverware to roll.

She chauffeured Twyla to Jazzagals rehearsal and waited in the car. She cut the engine and rolled down the windows, trying to hear even a note from Twyla, but she couldn’t and she wasn’t allowed out of the car. 

She accompanied Twyla to Rose Apothecary. When Patrick greeted them, Stevie nodded and looked down. Don’t speak unless spoken to. But only spoken to by Twyla.

Stevie followed Twyla around the store, holding each item Twyla pointed to. She was carrying cheese, tapenade, two bottles of wine, and hand cream when Patrick asked if she wanted to put the things at the register. She glanced at Twyla and read her face. She shook her head.

Several minutes later Stevie waited as Twyla checked out, collecting the heavy canvas tote from Patrick.

“You okay, Stevie?” he asked.

Twyla nodded.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Stevie said. Patrick frowned, looked from her to Twyla, then cleared his throat. The blush Stevie knew was on her cheeks spread to Patrick’s.

She just hoped he wouldn’t tell David.

Stevie was again behind the counter during dinner. Her Princess really did work too hard.

“Stevie,” Twyla snapped, “I need you to dish tonight.”

Stevie sprang to her feet and began bussing tables. The dish room was hot and humid, but the more Stevie washed, the calmer she became. She knew her place here. Scrape dishes, wash dishes, rinse dishes, sanitize dishes. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

She looked to her right, but there were no more dishes. She jumped when Twyla touched her shoulder.

“We’re closed,” she said softly. “George’s gone home.”

“Oh.” Stevie looked down at her wrinkled fingers. Twyla’s were always so soft. “I’ll rinse out the sinks, do you need anything else?”

“No, we’re all done. I’ll be in the office when you’re finished.”

Twyla’s eyes weren’t shining. Her eyes were neutral, which, on Twyla, may as well be agony.

Stevie tried—and failed—not to worry as she cleaned the sinks. She took extra care to ensure every surface shined.

She approached the tiny office. It had just enough room for a counter and desk chair. Twyla was zipping up a deposit bag and tossing it into the safe. Steve stood silent, waiting for Twyla to speak.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Twyla said quietly. She locked the safe and stared at her hands folded on the counter.

“What do you mean?” Stevie’s voice crackled.

“This.” Twyla looked up. “Us. I can’t see you anymore, I’m sorry.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Stevie’s voice tripped over itself. “Because I—I mean I can change. I can do better. I’ll be better if you need me to be better.”

Twyla stood and smiled wistfully, tucking Stevie’s hair behind her ear. “It’s not that, songbird. You’ve been perfect.”

“Then what?” Stevie felt every emotion she had taken a vacation from rise to the surface. Twyla had seen her cry plenty, but these tears felt different. “I’m yours—I’ll be lost.”

“You’ll be okay.” Twyla’s normally dancing eyes stayed placid. “I know you, you’ll be fine.”

“Please, just tell me why,” Stevie sobbed. She buried her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening, not now. Not while her life was in upheaval. Twyla was her anchor, keeping her from flying too high in the bedlam of her mind. Twyla was her control, her conscience, her calm. “Why now?”

“Because I love you.”

Stevie’s hands slid from her face. “What did you just say?” she whispered.

There was a flicker in Twyla’s eyes.

“I love you,” she repeated. “I’m in love with you.”

Stevie snorted with laughter. She really _had_ said it. Twyla loved her.

“Are you okay?” Twyla asked, her eyes returned to their normal expressive state. She looked concerned.

“I’m sorry.” Stevie wiped a tear from her cheek, which hurt from smiling. “I just… I’ve imagined this so many times, but I never thought…” She sniffled. “Are you sure?”

Twyla’s eyes practically pranced, looking at Stevie. “Never been so sure.” The Twyla Smile returned, wide and beautiful. “Is that okay?”

Stevie nodded. “Yes,” she kept nodding.

Twyla slid a hand around the back of Stevie’s neck and pulled her close.

This kiss was different. Stevie couldn’t pinpoint how exactly, but there were no roles being played, no one was better than the other. They were equals.

Stevie weaved her fingers into Twyla’s hair, like she’d always wanted to, and coaxed her mouth open. Somehow Twyla tasted different. Better. Sweeter.

Twyla kissed along Stevie’s neck, with a nip here and there. It was a tenderness usually saved for aftercare, but they were just beginning. Stevie buried her nose in Twyla’s hair, breathing her floral shampoo, and kissed her temple. Not because they were doing a scene or because this was her Princess. Because she wanted to.

Twyla pulled back and bit her lip. “Do you wanna go on a date? Sometime?”

“I’d like that.”

Twyla collected Stevie in her arms, chins on each other’s shoulders.

“You’re not mine anymore. You’re free. I know you’ll do great things.”

Stevie tried very hard to not sound pathetic. Like, really hard. It didn’t work.

“Am I still your songbird though?”

“If you want,” Twyla whispered in her ear.

“I do. I still kinda feel like yours. But different.”

“I feel like yours too, Songbird.” Twyla clutched her tight. “It feels good.”


End file.
